Nicholas "Nick" Talligan, aged 17

He should say something now, while he still has the chance.

Nick is squished onto the old couch inside the Justice Building's dusty goodbye room, between his two parents. Lisa, his little sister, sits cross-legged on the floor. Nick's father makes a sorry attempt to smile, but it soon falters. Nick doesn't blame him; it's hard to think of any happy thoughts right now.

He should really say something, before it's too late.

"Mom...Dad...can I tell you something?"
Nick is interrupted by his mother throwing her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Nicholas Talligan, you know how much we love you."
His father nods. "We care for you deeply. I'm not sure why this had to happen, but..."

"I know," Nick replies. "I...I love you guys too. And..I want you both to know-"
"You can come back, right?" Lisa blurts out, distracting Nick from his confession. "You have a fighting chance."

Nick shrugs. "I hope."
"Please Nick, you have to come back home. I don't want to lose you...I'll miss you. A lot."
Nick's mother lets go and he reaches out to hug Lisa. "I'll miss you too, sis.

He really needs to tell them.

"Guys...there's something I need to tell all of you...I'm-"
Nick's father sticks his hand into his pocket, then pulls out on old pocket watch. "Here. I want you to take this as your tribute token. It's an old family heirloom, which has been passed on to the eldest son for generations. And now...it belongs to you."

Nick holds the object in one hand, then runs the other along the face of the watch. The thing is pretty rusty and the hands have stopped working a long time ago. According to the watch, the time is a quarter past 5. It will stay that way forever.
"Thanks Dad."

His father smiles sadly. "I always hoped that someday...I'd get to see you have a son of your own...and then hand this treasure to him."

nick feels a small pang of guilt. Ever since he was deemed old enough to date, his parents have always talked about the possibility of him starting a family. They openly share their delight at getting to know their grandchildren. Sometimes, they'll point out a girl or two on the streets and joke about whether or not she'll become Nick's wife.

It would break their heart to know Nick isn't interested. It's not because the girls they mention aren't his type. It's not because he's repulsed at the idea of having his own family. He simply isn't interested. Nick has tried his damn hardest to envision what it would be like holding a young woman's hand, kissing her, lying next to her in a warm comfy bed. But he can't see himself doing this at all.

"You guys, don't understand. I'm not-"
"Time's up."

A Peacekeeper pokes his head into the room. Nick's parents get up to leave. Lisa follows them. She gives Nick a gloomy look as she slips through the door. For a few moments, he sits alone until a new face appears.

"Henderson," Nick tries to keep a steady tone, hoping to hide any trance of disgust he has within him.
Henderson just gives him a sleazy grin. Before, it used to send the butterflies in Nick's stomach into somersaults and backflips. Now, it makes his skin crawl. The older man just takes a seat next to Nick on the couch, a little too close for comfort. His pale blue eyes meet Nick's dark brown. For a while, all they do is stare. The guilt has returned.

This is Nick's secret. The thing he wanted to come clean about so long. But he was always worried about what his parents would think. Not when they found out he was gay, but when they found out that he had been dating a man so much older than him for almost five months. Henderson is approaching his 30th birthday in the fall. Nick is only a measly 17. What would his mother and father think?

"Hello," Harrison says, in a low and seductive tone. Nick can feel himself shivering, but tries his best to ignore it. He scoots to the opposite end of the couch.
Harrison seems annoyed at this. "What's wrong, baby? You used to love meeting up with me."
"This isn't the time." Nick feels an urge to slap that ugly grin off Harrison's face. He's just been Reaped! He's leaving District 5, with the possibility of never coming back! He can die!

Harrison frowns. So often, he's used to getting his way. Now, he's getting turned down. "How about a quickie? That always makes me feel better, and I bet you can channel all that fire into some sweet, loving passion-"
"Get out."

The man gives him a hard stare, but Nick isn't changing his head. He shakily points a finger at the door. "I'm done with you. Get out."
"But...babe...I-"
"GET OUT!"

Harrison scrambles out the door without a second thought. Nick glares at him until the door is closed, then leans back against the couch, pulls out the watch, and starts to cry.

Tesla Malridge, aged 56

Tesla wakes up one morning to somebody gently shaking his arm. When he opens his eyes, he finds a young woman standing over him.

He smiles, glad to see his wife again after a good night's sleep. But...it's not his wife. No, she looks similar, but she's not the same person. But Tesla doesn't realize that.
"Cherry?" he croaks out.
The woman shakes her head. "No Dad. It's Sonya. Your middle daughter."
"Ah." Tesla nods. He remembers her now. "But...Cherry."

Sonya lowers her eyes. "Cherry...Mom...she's not here right now. Here, let's go get some breakfast."
Breakfast sounds good right now. Sonya leaves Tesla alone as he gets changed, stumbles in and out of the bathroom, then heads downstairs. Instead, she's already in the kitchen, preparing a stack of pancakes. As Sonya begins pulling out dishes and sets the table, Tesla rummages through the cupboards. He finds a bottle of liquor, yanks the the top off, and takes a long sip.

Tesla can't remember when he first started drinking. He can't remember a few things about his life. It's not that he's old; Tesla's only 56. It's that he's spent so many years drinking and blacking out that he really can't remember certain details. Now, he sits patiently at the table, chugging away. Sonya places a plate of pancakes in front of her father.

For a while, it's just the two of them. Sonya eating, Tesla eating and drinking. Once the pancakes are done, Sonya laces all the dishes into the sink. Shen then turns around to find Tesla staring at the window. It's a nice, sunny day. the sky is clear of clouds and there's no sign of rain.

Tesla spends the morning lounging about, eating the homecooked meals Sonya prepares for him. He continues to look outside. Maybe...he can spot Cherry coming back home to him. Eventually, Sonya reminds him they have to leave for the Justice Building.

"Why?" Tesla is confused.
"It's Reaping day...Dad."
"Oh...yes." Tesla remembers now. He grabs his old hat as Sonya leads him out the door.

This Reaping day seems just as bleak the last. Everyone shuffles about with sympathetic looks upon their faces, feeling sorry for whatever families are about to watch their children get sent to the slaughter. This time, they're all staring as Tesla. He's not sure why. All he does is tip his hat in greeting and Sonya leads him to the Justice Building.

Tesla is quickly pulled into the stage, which isn't a surprise for him. For whatever reason...he's always up here. They say it's because he has a special status. He doesn't remember ever receiving the status, but Tesla just goes along with it like everyone else.

This year, he stands alone on the far right. The escort is right next to him, with Celaena Marshall on her left. The Reaping balls are in their spots, but they're empty. Tesla notices only one single slip of paper lying at the bottom of the glass dish in front of him.
He frowns. Nobody told him they were doing the Reapings like this. Has the tribute already been picked?

Everything else goes normally, or at least the way Tesla remembers it. The video is displayed. The Treaty is read. The escort says a brief hello, then carefully pulls the one slip from the girls' Reaping bowl. She reads it out loud in a monotone voice.

"Celeana Marshall."

The young Victor begin to scream. Tesla feels sorry for her, but he's also confused at the same time. What was her name doing in the bowl? Isn't she too old to get Reaped?

The escort says nothing and simply reaches for the other bowl. She sticks her hand straight to the bottom and digs out the only paper slip. She opens it up and the name is read.

"Tesla Malridge."

As if things were already confusing enough. Tesla is quick to decide that it's somebody else. After all, Tesla is a very common name in this district. Surely, there's several little boys out there, wondering if they're the ones who've been called. But nobody steps up. All eyes are on him.
As he's hauled into the Justice Building, Tesla finally realizes what happened.

Now, he's sitting in the little old room once more. His three daughters and their families crowd around him. The eldest, Tira, stands next to her husband as he pats her back. Evie, the youngest, is crying loudly into her wife's shoulder. Tesla's five grandchildren crowd around him, asking all sorts of questions about why he got reaped, what would happen to him now. Sonya is at the far back of the room with her arms crossed and head down.

"I've been Reaped," Tesla says in a quiet tone.
Evie nods; she looks absolutely miserable. "Yes Dad. There was a special twist. You're going back into the Games."

Tesla considers this. He remembers some sort of big announcement earlier in the year. Never did he think he would have anything to do with it. He thought he was safe forever.
He was wrong.

As Tesla begins to ponder the next few days, a small smile crosses his lips. This seems to consider his children, who share nervous looks. "Dad," Sonya asks. "...you okay?"

Tesla just grins. I'm going to be with Cherry again."

I got the idea to explore the concepts of a tribute with a horrible secret and a Victor with a terrible memory. What do you think?